


Inspiration, Thy Name is Grantaire

by ladylegsenjolras



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:58:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylegsenjolras/pseuds/ladylegsenjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan is having a hard time getting inspired to write poetry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inspiration, Thy Name is Grantaire

Jehan stretched his legs out on the couch, wiggling his toes in his mismatched socks. He rested his falling-apart notebook on his lap, taking his favorite pen from the wire binding. He opened to a clean page and rested the tip of the pen on the beginning of the line, waiting for inspiration to strike him. It didn't.

Jehan had to turn in a poem for his creative writing class. Normally, it was easy for him to just pick up a pen and write, but today for some reason, he felt nothing. He tapped the pen against his temple, against his leg, and against the side of the couch. With a frustrated sigh, he clicked the pen and set it down on the coffee table. His roommate, Grantaire, emerged from his room, leaning in the doorway and facing Jehan. 

"Having some trouble?" he asked, chuckling. Jehan let his head fall back on the armrest of the sofa, making an exasperated noise. 

"I just can't find any inspiration," he mused. Grantaire shrugged. He made his way over to the couch and sat down by Jehan's feet. The poet picked his feet up and rested them on Grantaire's lap.  
"What do you have to write about?" Grantaire asked. 

"Someone close to your heart," Jehan replied. Grantaire looked forward, making a small humming sound. Jehan watched this small movement, with the eye of a poet. He scribbled out a few words on his paper, stealing glances back up. Grantaire hadn't turned his head, but instead sat quietly, his hand resting on Jehan's ankle. Soon, the only sound that filled the room was the soft noise of Jehan's pen flying across the paper. Inspiration had struck, and his name was Grantaire.

Jehan wrote about the drunk taking him in and letting them room together. He wrote about the grace of Grantaire's movements, even when he was a bit intoxicated. He wrote about the sparkle in Grantaire's eyes when he argued. The words that he held inside him all flowed out at once, he could barely write them down fast enough. When he looked up again, he noticed that Grantaire's eyes were on him. He smiled a half smile that made Jehan's heart flutter. 

"Suddenly inspired?" he asked. Jehan nodded slowly. Grantaire leaned forward slightly. "Can I read it?" Jehan clutched the notebook to his chest, shaking his head.

"Oh, no, it's...um...it's no good, you wouldn't like it," he said lamely. 

"Your poetry is always good, why can't I read it?" Grantaire whined. Jehan sighed, looking at the words he wrote.

"It's..." he trailed off. A calculating gleam appeared in Grantaire's eyes. Jehan inched himself backwards, picking his feet up out of his friend's lap. Grantaire suddenly lunged forward, making a grab for the book. Jehan almost shrieked, holding his notebook above his head. Grantaire stretched out towards it, laughing.

"Aw, come on, Jehan, is it about a girl or something?" Jehan shook his head fervently, stretching away as far as he could. Grantaire was determined, however, and he straddled Jehan, pinning him to the couch. Jehan could feel his face burning bright red. Grantaire had just managed to get a hold of the corner of the book, when he looked down.  
The two boys' faces were just inches apart. Jehan swallowed hard, his eyes flickering all over Grantaire's face, everywhere except his eyes. Grantaire sat up, rubbing the back of his head. He somewhat apologetically rolled off of his friend and stood next to the couch.

"I should let you keep writing," he said to the floor. With that, he quickly shuffled back into his room and closed the door. Jehan sighed with relief and a bit of sadness. He looked at the full page of his thoughts and feelings. He closed the book slowly and pulled it to his chest, resting his head on the back of the couch.


End file.
